Heatstroke
by Kitkat973
Summary: Given a choice between Gaara assuming he was having a heat stroke and Gaara realizing the truth behind why Lee was reacting the way he was, he’d choose the heat stroke option any day.


**(A/N):** Based off the prompts "heat" and "prison" from the GaaLee LJ community, an intended drabble gone incredibly long. Rated M for a reason. Graphic sexual content between two men is featured in this story. If that's not your thing, click the back button now. My version of a PwP.

* * *

Jade-green eyes fixed curiously on the spectacle by the river. In Suna, splashing around in clean water for something as simple as avoiding the heat would've been sacrilege, and beneath the Kazekage's curiosity was a touch of disapproval. Konoha wasn't held to the same water restrictions, however, and when the worst heat-wave in memory had struck, the river at the edge of the forest had become a popular meeting place. Tsunade had summarily cancelled the meetings for the day when the temperature rose above 100, and thus the Kazekage found himself sitting on a grassy bank beside a green-clad shinobi, watching as the others tried to cool off.

Naruto went flying into the air, and Sakura glared after him, one arm firmly around her pink top– the back of it had been untied. Gaara shifted and let out a quiet breath. To those who knew him well enough, the slight change would've been taken as a sigh. Lee didn't seem to notice, and continued giving his (altogether too energetic for the heat) speech on the Youthful Benefits of Taijutsu and how Gaara should Seriously Consider incorporating it into his fighting style. The speech was punctuated by an enthusiastic fist to the air and Lee swearing to teach him all that he knew, or run around Konoha five hundred times, backwards, on his hands.

"Later," Gaara said. Lee looked uncertain for a moment, then the excitement drained from his frame and he lowered his Fist of Resolution.

"Of course, Gaara-sama." Lee's voice was polite and unassuming, but it was obvious from his expression that he thought Gaara was humoring him.

Gaara glanced over at the other man, then let out another breath in a half-sigh.

"You will begin teaching me as soon as the heat wave passes."

Lee's eyes widened, and the goofy grin that had slipped off his face settled back into place, brighter than ever. "Of course!" Lee chirped.

Gaara nodded slightly, then stood in a single, fluid motion. They would be heading back to Suna soon, but it would be simple to request that Lee be dispatched with them. If Lee felt that Gaara learning taijutsu was important, then it was important. Of course, a fighting style wasn't something that someone could learn in a day. It would take at least a year. Maybe two. He found himself feeling oddly content with that estimate. If he focused on mastering the more difficult moves, he could make a case for Lee's presence being necessary for up to three years.

The Kazekage looked out over the river thoughtfully. Actually entering the water was too much for his desert-bred sensibilities, but Gaara could see the benefit of the state of undress the others were currently in. Konoha normally didn't approach Suna in heat, but the past week had been the hottest in memory, and the humidity made it all the worse. Pale hands dropped to the double-belt holding his coat in place, and Gaara idly undid the buckle, sliding the tongue free and letting the belt drop to the grass beside his gourd. Similar motions freed the weighty leather vest, then Gaara shrugged out of his maroon jacket, allowing it to fall to the ground in a spill of red.

Gaara heard an intake of breath from beside him, and glanced at Lee, tilting his head slightly to the side in inquiry. Lee didn't answer the silent question, but his eyes were glazed over and his cheeks were flushed. Gaara's lips twitched downward, and he hooked his thumbs underneath the fabric of his fishnet shirt, pulling it off.

The breeze felt good on his sweat-slicked skin, and dark-ringed eyes sensuously slid closed as the Kazekage tilted his head back, leaning into the touch of the wind. Lee's gaze fixed on the arch of his neck and the way crimson hair, stirred by the breeze, moved against an ivory throat. A ripple of muscle drew his eyes downward, along a pale, hairless chest, and Lee's mouth went dry. Gaara's build was delicate for a shinobi, but the lean, toned muscles complimented his small frame. Then Gaara's hands dropped to his pants, and Lee choked.

Pale green eyes flew open, fixing on the Jounin. Lee's face had gone from heat-flushed to crimson, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. The Kazekage took a step forward, and Lee immediately mirrored the movement, scrambling backward over the river bank. Gaara's eyes narrowed slightly, and he stepped forward again.

"Something is wrong," he stated calmly. Lee's eyes grew even wider, and he waved his hands in the air frantically.

"Nothing is wrong! Nothing! I was just- just- nothing is wrong!" he babbled. Gaara's frown intensified and he leaned over the other shinobi, staring into onyx eyes from only an inch away. The rate of Lee's breathing quickened again, and Gaara pressed the back of his hand against one reddened cheek. Lee started and tried to draw away, but Gaara followed.

"You're feverish," Gaara's normal monotone held a hint of worry underneath it, and his hand dropped to the side of Lee's throat, pressing against his pulse point. The Jounin's breathing stuttered and grew shallow, matching the rapid flutter underneath his fingers. Gaara's eyes narrowed further, and he ran through the symptoms in his mind. Hot, flushed skin. Rapid pulse. Difficulty breathing. Agitation. It all added up to a single, obvious conclusion.

"You're having a heat stroke. We need to get you out of here." Lee sputtered in protest, but Gaara didn't listen, instead pulling Lee to his feet. Gaara made the seal for the transportation jutsu with the hand not firmly grasping Lee's wrist, and sand swirled around them both.

* * *

The suite that Tsunade had prepared for the Kazekage was spacious and well-decorated as suited his lofty station, situated in an easily defendable position near the center of Konoha, yet far enough away from the Hokage's own quarters to offer autonomy. The room looked untouched, from the large, perfectly-made bed to the vase of dying flowers. Gaara had seen no point in wasting water on keeping them alive. The only signs that the Kazekage had spent any time at all in the room were the papers neatly stacked on the desk and the faint, unmistakable scent of sand.

Lee was in no position to notice any of these things. In fact, the only thing he was noticing right now was the wall and how it felt pressed against his shoulders and how he really wished it'd dissolve or something similar so he'd have a way out of this situation. Alternatively, the floor could open up and swallow him whole, or while he was wishing for impossible things, maybe he could spontaneously learn that transportation jutsu and teleport as far away from the Kazekage as possible, so that he could deal with his embarrassment the proper way – through harsh, demanding training.

"I am fine, Gaara-sama! I thank you for worrying about my health, but I am firmly in the Springtime of my Youth and will not be overcome by something as simple as a little heat, so if you could please-" Lee started, but he was interrupted by narrowed green eyes and pale hands tugging, for the second time, at his flak jacket.

"You are having a heat stroke, Lee." Gaara's tone was firm and brooked no argument. Lee steadfastly ignored it, along with the glare.

"I really am fine! Look, would I be able to do this if I were not fine?" Lee asked, more than a hint of desperation in his voice, and he immediately threw himself into a Konoha Senpu to demonstrate that his body was working perfectly. The breeze created from his kick ruffled the Kazekage's hair. Gaara's lips twitched further downward. Lee gulped.

"Your temperature is high. Your face is flushed. Your pulse is rapid, you are having difficulty breathing, and you are acting strangely. You are having a heat stroke." Gaara laid the argument out in crisp, clear tones, stepping closer to Lee with each sentence, until he was once again crowding the green-clad man against the wall. Lee's heart stuck in his throat as Gaara's hands fixed on his vest, roughly tugging it off, and he tried to come to terms with the fact that the Kazekage of Suna seemed dead-set on undressing him.

It could've been much worse, though. Given a choice between Gaara assuming he was having a heat stroke and Gaara realizing the truth behind why Lee was reacting the way he was, he'd choose the heat stroke option any day. Rebellious eyes slipped down to take in Gaara's bare chest, reminding the Jounin once again of exactly why he was so flustered, and Lee's less disciplined side got to enjoy the view for all of a second before his eyes snapped shut.

_Gaara is the Kazekage. And my friend. My very MALE friend, and I do not think of him in that way! Right._ In order to make up for his confusion on the matter, Lee would run a thousand laps around Konoha. Then he'd do two thousand pushups. Then two thousand situps. And if he were still confused about his feelings for Gaara at that point, he'd- he'd-

Lee yelped and drew away as if he'd been scalded.

"Gaara?!" He was shocked enough to not notice that he'd dropped the suffix. The red-haired man looked up from his attempt to remove Lee's jumpsuit with an expression that clearly asked why he was still protesting.

"You need to cool off." Gaara explained, with the slightly impatient tone he normally reserved for Suna's council when they were trying to push through a particularly nonsensical piece of legislature.

"I am fine! Really, I am, so there is no need to do- to do something like that! I promise that I am not having a heat stroke!" Lee's eyes grew a bit wild and his hands came up to cling protectively at the neckline of his jumpsuit.

The Kazekage's eyes narrowed further, and the chakra that had been steadily building in the room spiked, strong enough for even Lee's dulled senses to catch.

"Explain." It was a command, not a question, and Lee's heart stopped in his chest for a moment then restarted with a sick thud. He really should've just gone along with the whole heat stroke thing, but that would've involved Gaara peeling off his- Lee's thoughts got sidetracked by that image, and the blood that wasn't already occupied in keeping his face the same shade as the Kazekage's hair flooded downward, reminding him of exactly why that would've been a bad idea. Because spandex wasn't exactly the most concealing fabric when it came to certain Youthful problems, but it was at least more concealing than nudity.

For a moment he was tempted to make something up, but years of Gai-sensei's lectures and his own moral code prevented him from doing anything so Dishonest. Lee tacked five hundred chin-ups onto his planned training after this was all over as punishment for even thinking about lying (assuming Gaara didn't kill him before he could start said training regimen, which was an assumption Lee wasn't really willing to make) and took a deep, unsteady breath. Okay. He could do this.

"Well, um, you see- when a person, and another person, well, when a person sees another person, like that, I mean, um-"

Gaara crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, when a person- you see, um, they- and then, well, they react – um, well, physically, they- it is perfectly natural! Gai-sensei said that it happens all the time! And you see, that is why I am not having a heat stroke. So everything is fine. Can we please leave now?" Lee asked plaintively. He was vaguely aware that he'd been babbling, but he sincerely hoped the Kazekage would be satisfied with his jumbled explanation.

"That made no sense." The sand stirred, and Lee gulped. Apparently not.

"Oh, um-"

Gaara stepped closer, staring up into Lee's eyes. His expression would've been deemed as calm by those who did not know him, but years of exposure clued Lee in on the half-glare and the tension around sandstone-colored lips that signaled both confusion and frustration. Another step, and Gaara's slender body was only an inch away from his. The temperature in the room fluctuated, or maybe it was just Lee, but all of a sudden everything seemed much warmer… his gaze fixed on Gaara's lips, and Lee leaned down instinctively, automatically, and without any conscious thought. Because if he'd been thinking there was no way he would've done something as reckless as move in closer to Gaara of the Sand with the half-formed intent of kissing him, even if kissing him seemed to be a really good plan right about now.

"I don't understand." Gaara was close enough that his breath whispered against Lee's lips, and the frustration was obvious in his voice. "Tell me. Tell me what's going on."

The sound of Gaara's voice snapped Lee out of his daze, and he quickly pulled back. Okay. He hadn't just done that. He hadn't almost kissed Gaara, because obviously no matter what his stupid, stupid body had thought before, it distinctly _wasn't_ a good idea. In fact, it was a horrible idea. A terrible one. And-

Suddenly a thin, slight frame was pressed against his muscled form, and Lee felt the rasp of sand close around his wrists, imprisoning him as effectively as any manacles. He gulped, because in this position there was really no way to continue denying it, and by the way Gaara's eyes had widened…

"…You're…_aroused."_ Gaara's normal monotone held a touch of something – not curiosity, but something similar. Black-ringed eyes darted up to look at Lee's face, and the Jounin stared back, dumbstruck. He really, really, really didn't know how to handle this. Because while Gai-sensei had thoroughly trained him on the etiquette for many situations, how to handle the sometimes-psychotic leader of another village finding out that you had a hard-on because of him wasn't one of gaped like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Something childish inside him had the urge to yell out 'I am not!' despite the contrary being obvious. The rest of him was busy mapping out an escape plan, but the sand was holding him firmly in place. Even worse, Gaara wasn't _moving. _He wasn't drawing away or stepping back or doing any of the things that would break the contact between them.

"…Why?" That something in Gaara's voice was pronounced now, and hearing it again, it sounded more like fascination. Then the Kazekage paused and tilted his head to the side slightly, mulling over Lee's jumbled explanation from before. "Is it because of me?" he asked.

Lee made a sound that could only be described as a whimper. He'd really hoped that Gaara wouldn't put all of this together, and really, it was unfair that the red-head had to be a genius, too, on top of everything else.

"Gaara-sama, I meant no disrespect-"Lee started, and was promptly cut off when one of Gaara's hands dropped between them to cover the bulge in his spandex. Lee's brain spun into a left turn then promptly fizzled out, unable to process the situation. Because he could've sworn that Gaara had- had- touched him. There. And obviously, there was no way that Gaara would do something like that. Right. Which meant that he'd probably fallen asleep in the sun, and would wake up sun-burned and very embarrassed any time now, and he really hoped that he'd not been talking in his sleep because really, how would he explain something like that?

Lee looked down only to find that Gaara's hand was still there, delicate and pale against the dark green fabric, thin fingers giving no hint that with a twitch they could turn a forest into a desert.

"You're aroused. By me," Gaara said. Lee started to protest, but jade eyes narrowed yet again, and his hand _squeezed_, drawing attention to the very physical evidence of said arousal.

"…Yes." Lee said.

"You want to have sex. With me."

Lee closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to face the Kazekage's too-intense gaze. "…Yes." His voice was soft and husky, quiet even to his own ears, and Lee tensed in preparation for the reaction that would surely come.

Sand stirred against bandages, then the manacles dissolved in fine trickles and streams, falling to the ground with a soft whisper that soon increased to a hiss. Gaara stepped back, and Lee tensed further, not knowing what to expect. When fingers brushed against his cheek, he flinched, and dark eyes snapped open to stare at the Kazekage. The curious touch was repeated, but something felt off about it- something strange. Lee frowned, and Gaara's eyes dropped downward, settling on the Jounin's lips. Slim fingers followed his gaze, and a thumb ran over Lee's bottom lip, as smooth as silk, but somehow different – warm. It wasn't the touch of a shinobi's hand, calloused and scarred from kunai and chakra wire. Nor was it the carefully calculated touch that Gaara used only when necessary, which was always fleeting and carried the rough rasp of sand, shielding him both from harm and little intimacies.

It was the smooth, deliberate glide of skin against skin. Lee's mouth went dry, and he swallowed automatically. The bob of his Adam's apple caught Gaara's attention, and the questing fingers moved lower, sliding curiously over Lee's throat. Lee forced himself to stay still underneath Gaara's perusal, despite the fact that the Kazekage could kill him in at least thirteen different ways from this position alone.

"I haven't done this before. You'll have to show me how," Gaara said. Lee wondered how it was possible for someone to sound so calm, so collected, when saying something like that.

"Wh-what?" It wasn't the most eloquent question in the world, but it accurately reflected Lee's shock and disbelief, and he thought he could be forgiven for a momentary lapse of eloquence under the current circumstances. Gaara apparently disagreed, judging by the tension around his eyes, and Lee belatedly remembered that crimson-haired man disliked having to repeat himself. But really, it'd sounded like Gaara had just said- well, implied- that he wanted to… to… Lee's thoughts ran into a brick wall, one that he had no chances of getting past.

"Kankuro explained the basics, but I assume it will be different when applied to another man, rather than to a woman. You will teach me."

"Teach you?! B-but – I cannot! I mean- I-I have not done this either! I do not know- I mean, well, there was that lecture at the academy, but-" Lee knew he was babbling again, and he seemed to be doing a lot of that today, but really. Then Gaara shot him a Look, and Lee tried again.

"Gaara, do you even- want that? With me?" Lee's disbelief showed clearly in the hastily tacked on question at the end, because as strange as the idea of Gaara wanting to have sex at all was (Lee – and the majority of the population of both villages - had always assumed that the Sand nin was asexual), the idea of him wanting to have sex with Lee was mindboggling. Lee knew what others thought of his odd looks, and privately, he agreed with them. Oh, not about the bowl-cut or the spandex – those things made him look more like his handsome teacher, after all – but Lee knew he was fish-eyed and that his eyebrows were much too large and that his battered and scarred body was far from aesthetically appealing.

And then there was Gaara, with his fire-colored hair and intense green eyes, skin the shade of porcelain and, judging by the fingertips resting against his throat, as smooth as cream. The idea that someone like Gaara would want someone like _him_ like that- well, it was laughable, really. Because Gaara didn't want _anyone_, but if he wanted someone, it would be someone- well. Pretty. Beautiful. Strong. Like Gaara himself. And it most distinctly wouldn't be a guy, and if it was, it wouldn't be someone like Lee, which was why when those feelings had started to crop up he'd shoved them firmly away. Because Gaara was his friend, and that was enough. Had to be enough, because Lee would never have a chance at anything more, and he knew that, and he'd kept quiet for _years_ now and then Gaara had to just go and strip his clothes off and then _notice_ that Lee got aroused and **of course** he got hard because how the hell was he supposed to _not_ get hard when Gaara was looking like that?

"I don't mind the idea." Gaara's tone was contemplative, and his hand dropped lower to rest against Lee's spandex covered shoulder, tracing the seam of his jumpsuit. Gaara's eyes stayed fixed on his hand, watching as it slid over the developed muscles of Lee's arm, smoothly gliding over the slick green fabric. The intensity of that gaze made Lee uncomfortable, and he glanced down as well, watching as Gaara's fingers moved slowly down his arm. He was tense, as tense as before a battle. Lee had been touched before, yes. He was touched often – Gai taught as much through manly claps on the back and sudden hugs as he did by demonstration. But as far as Lee could remember, he'd never been touched like this – not this deliberately, not with jade eyes tracking every movement, counting his every breath.

"There is something appealing about it," Gaara continued, and his hand slid down over the bandages, catching against the rough fabric. His fingers tightened around Lee's, guiding his hand up between them then turning it over, exposing the inside of Lee's wrist. Lee allowed himself to be positioned like a doll, staring dumbly as pale fingers explored his carefully wrapped bandages, then slid underneath, plucking at the tie then slowly starting to unwind them. The sand caught in the cloth whispered to the floor as Gaara unwound the bandages, then it was the smooth glide of skin against skin once more. Lee stared at their hands, at the contrast between battered, scarred knuckles and hands that had never needed to draw a kunai, and tried to think of something, anything, to say.

Then Gaara was repeating the process with his other hand, deftly unwinding the bandages and dropping them to the floor. His expression was contemplative as light fingertips explored Lee's left arm, running over the distinctive scars he'd left there during their Chuunin exams. There was neither disgust nor self-recrimination in his touch – instead, it was analytical, but somehow far less impersonal than that implied. Like Gaara was… memorizing him. Memorizing the way he felt, the way pebbled and raised scars caught at the whorls of his fingertips, and there was something else underneath it, something almost possessive, that Lee couldn't quite define or put his finger on but knew was there.

"I like this. Touching you. And I'm not sure why," Gaara said slowly, all of his attention focused on his fingers against Lee's skin. He hesitated for a moment, then guided Lee's hand up to his own face and clumsily nuzzled against his palm. His nose bumped against the heel of Lee's hand, and a fringe of crimson hair lightly tickled Lee's fingertips. Lee stared at the sight of his own fingers on Gaara's skin, resting against his cheek, and he tried to remember how to breathe.

"Gaara-" It was half question, half request, though Lee wasn't certain exactly what it was he was asking for. All of his attention seemed to be commanded by the feel of Gaara's skin underneath his fingers, silken and ever-so-soft. He drew an unsteady breath and gave into temptation, letting his fingertips skim over the curve of Gaara's jaw. Tentatively, he brushed his fingertips against the corner of Gaara's eye. The skin felt thin and delicate there, and Lee wasn't surprised when the distinctive rings didn't smudge beneath his touch. All the while those pale green eyes stayed fixed on him, calculating every movement and shift of Lee's expression.

Apparently Gaara found what he'd wanted there, because when Lee's fingers finally became bold enough to slip into Gaara's hair, the Kazekage leaned forward. The height-difference between them was enough that he had to brace his hands against Lee's shoulders and stretch upward, and if it hadn't been for the warm press of thin, sand-stone colored lips against his Lee would've felt a touch of purely private amusement over that necessity. As it was, he couldn't think at all, because Gaara was kissing him.

Not much of a kiss, really- just an insistent press of lips against lips, as if Gaara had nothing more than the most basic of concepts to go off of- but it counted. It definitely, definitely, definitely counted. And Gaara had been the one to kiss HIM. As the Kazekage drew back and looked up at Lee, that was the thought that lingered in his mind the most. Well, that, and that he was surprised at just how soft Gaara's lips were. Some part of him had expected the sand to linger there, rough and abrasive against the satin of skin. The lack of it was proof that Gaara felt safe, and that knowledge fluttered in Lee's chest. Gaara felt _safe_ alone with him. He felt safe touching him. He _wanted_ to touch him.

Lee's breathing quickened to much the same pace that had alarmed the Kazekage earlier, and his gaze fixed on those lips. "Can I kiss you again?" someone that sounded like Lee asked. The voice was breathier than Lee ever remembered sounding, though, and he was fairly certain he hadn't asked a question at all. He was too busy staring and getting it through his mind that Gaara had kissed him to bother with something like talking.

Then Gaara did it again, and Lee decided that if the voice had been his, it had the right idea after all. His lips moved against Gaara's, gently encouraging more than just the press of their mouths together. It took a moment for the Kazekage to catch on, but once he did, his lips softened beneath Lee's. Lee kept the kiss at that level for a long time, reading what clues he could from Gaara's body. When his tongue briefly touched against Gaara's lips, the hands fisted on his jumpsuit tightened. Lee froze, wondering if he'd pushed too far- then Gaara's tongue came out to meet his, and despite it being clumsy from inexperience, kissing that way was entirely better.

It was like sparring. Thrust demanded parry, action reaction, and while kissing was new for them, sparring wasn't. Lee knew how Gaara moved, how he thought, and that was something intrinsic that guided his every movement. He shifted so that his back rested firmly against the wall, and the hand not occupied with toying with Gaara's hair slid down. Calloused fingers skimmed over Gaara's back, and Lee was amazed both that Gaara would let him touch him like this at all and that Gaara's skin felt so incredibly _smooth_ underneath his palm. His fingers quested, seeking any imperfection in pale skin, but the raised line of Gaara's spine and the fluid grace of shifting muscle was all that Lee's exploration found.

Somehow, he didn't mind. When Gaara's hands tugged at his jumpsuit again, it seemed entirely more natural to go along with it this time. The neckline easily stretched, and Lee felt the cool air prick at his shoulders before Gaara pulled back. Without his consent, a small sound of protest slipped past Lee's lips. He'd rather been enjoying kissing Gaara. The part of his mind that was still rational, though, mentioned that this might be going a bit too fast. Or a lot too fast. Lee swallowed, and ran his tongue over his lips. He could taste the faint, lingering hint of spice that was Gaara there, and it took everything he had to not get distracted by that.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, voice uncertain, but thickened by lust. Gaara looked up at him with inscrutable eyes. "No," he stated calmly. Lee's own eyes widened, and his mind scrambled, looking for potential ways to diffuse the situation- starting out with abject apologies, then probably an offer of his head on a platter in order to keep the alliance between Konoha and Suna in place. Lee gulped, but straightened his shoulders firmly. He was a man, and he would take responsibility for his own actions, and-

And Gaara was tugging at his jumpsuit again. The movement was sharp and jerky, instead of the slow, deliberate motions that Lee had come to associate with the Kazekage, and the difference was striking. Startled, he looked at Gaara's face, but all he saw there was a slight upturn to his lips that denoted satisfaction. It was only when Gaara pressed his palm firmly in the center of Lee's bared chest that Lee realized what had just happened, and the realization that what had been wrong was Lee being clothed hit him with all the force of one of his own trademark whirlwind kicks.

Gaara's hand was warm against his chest, especially in contrast to the air, which raised goosebumps on sweat-dampened skin. He looked at Gaara again, but the Kazekage's gaze seemed fixed on his own fingers. Lee gulped and looked down. At first Gaara seemed content to simply rest his hand against Lee's skin, but then pale fingers started the same detailed perusal Gaara had given his arm. They slid curiously over the line of his collarbone, and lingered on a wicked, curved scar he'd picked up from a kunai on his first B-rank mission. His scars seemed to fascinate Gaara. Lee watched as every one was at least brushed against, but Gaara's fingers seemed to keep returning to the swirl on his left arm. "I put this here," he said quietly, and to Lee, the hint of possessiveness he felt in the touch was all the more evident in Gaara's calm monotone. "I marked you," he said.

"You did." Lee wondered if it was Gaara's own lack of scars that made him find Lee's so fascinating. Between the Demon and the Sand, he'd never had to worry about scarring- had never had to worry about pain, until their first fight, when Lee had proven for the first time that the ultimate defense could be breached. Gaara's fingers slid upward, and the smooth pad of his thumb brushed against one taut nipple. Lee's breathing hitched, and Gaara glanced up, faint curiosity showing in his eyes. He repeated the motion again, more deliberately this time, and the resulting flash of pleasure made Lee feel just a little bit dizzy. Gaara's eyes stayed fixed on his, and Lee swallowed, seeing the question there. "Feels good," he explained.

"Hmm." The Kazekage seemed content with no more response than that, but his hand moved to his own chest, idly stroking over one sandstone-colored nipple. The sudden surge of arousal Lee felt would have surprised him, if it weren't for the sheer number of times he'd fantasized about watching Gaara touch himself in front of him. Still, as good as the fantasy was- as good as he was certain watching would be, if he didn't interrupt and the Kazekage continued his exploration- there were other things that promised to be better.

He closed the distance between them, guiding Gaara's head to tilt back and leaning down to kiss him. It was more comfortable from that angle, more natural- easier to find the ways that their mouths fit together. His tongue explored the hot, wet silk of Gaara's mouth, and he slowly wrapped his arms around the redhead, pulling his slight form closer. When their skin touched, Lee's breath came out in a low rush. He broke the kiss, cheek resting against Gaara's, and panted for breath.

Something was important. Something that he needed to ask, needed to- it was so hard to concentrate in that moment, but Lee pushed past the arousal with all the determination that he possessed. "How far do you want this to go?" he asked, the words a low murmur against the curve of Gaara's ear. In response, Gaara stroked a thoughtful hand over ribs that had been broken too many times, then let it slip lower, underneath the fabric of the spandex. Touching another male was easy enough- he hadn't masturbated, but he understood the concept, and it seemed considerably more simple than dealing with a female. He at least had a general understanding of how Lee's body worked.

Jade eyes met onyx as Gaara's fingers touched against the bare flesh of Lee's erection, then shamelessly curled around it. Lee's breath caught, then escaped in a low whoosh as Gaara stroked him from base to tip. "I want it all," Gaara finally replied. "I want to experience this."

It wasn't a declaration of love, or even of affection, but it was more than Lee had expected. And honestly, if he was looking for declarations of love, he wasn't looking for Gaara. It said something that he wanted this with him- that he was even curious about it, instead of dismissing it out of hand. Lee suddenly wished that he had more experience to draw on, all too aware that this was likely to be the only time he'd be with the Kazekage like this. He wanted to make this worth it- to be certain that Gaara wouldn't regret choosing to be with him like this. He wanted it to be special.

But, a voice deep inside whispered, it would be- because it would be together, which was something that Lee hadn't even considered outside of fantasy. He swallowed and tried to think with Gaara's fingers moving over him, but it was difficult. Finally he compromised, letting his hands drop to Gaara's own pants and fiddle with the catch holding them together. It was more difficult than he'd expected to summon the fine motor movement necessary to undo the hidden clasp, but Gaara showed no signs of distaste or discomfort at Lee's attempt to undress him. When he tugged at the black fabric, Gaara pulled back just enough to step out of it, then cast a pointed look at Lee's own jumpsuit. Cheeks flushed crimson, Lee pulled the offending fabric off.

Gaara was the one to initiate the next kiss, and it was considerably deeper than the ones prior. Lee spared a moment to wryly both appreciate and curse the fact that Gaara's genius seemed to extend to this realm as well. The entire situation was enough to make his blood burn, and that was without the clever things Gaara's tongue was doing in Lee's mouth. He somehow summoned enough will to pull away, and at Gaara's annoyed look- a slight tightening around mint green eyes that seemed mildly threatening- Lee nodded towards the bed. He swallowed, trying to find his voice. "If we are going to keep going, we should…"

The Kazekage didn't bother to reply, instead moving to sit on the edge of the comforter. He cast a glance at Lee that was an obvious summons, and Lee went willingly, sitting down opposite Gaara. There was a moment of awkwardness as Lee tried to decide what to _do_ and Gaara just looked at him. Lee dampened his lips, feeling even more awkward underneath that steady gaze, and tried to not concentrate on the fact that he was sitting naked on Gaara's bed. "So. Um. This. There are… different ways. And things that we could do. It depends on how far you want to go."

"I want all of it." There wasn't the slightest tinge of self-consciousness in Gaara's voice, and Lee really wished that there was, because, really. Couldn't he be at least a little embarrassed about all of this? Or maybe the Universe figured that Lee was plenty embarrassed for both of them. He looked down, trying to think of how to phrase the next question. "If… you want that. To, um, go all the way, I mean. You will have to- um. Either you or I will have to-" Lee stumbled, trying to find a way to say the words. Gaara's inscrutable gaze was of absolutely no help.

"One of us will have to. Um. And the other will- please tell me you know how sex works?" he asked finally, looking up at Gaara with more than a bit of desperation. Gaara folded his arms over his chest.

"A man inserts his penis inside a woman until orgasm." Clean, dry, neat, to the point. Lee winced, then nodded. "It is the same with men. Only, um, where it goes is- different."

Gaara stared. "Is that anatomically possible?"

Lee winced, again. It was probably a sign of just how attractive he found this brutally blunt man sitting opposite of him that the incredibly uncomfortable conversation hadn't managed to make his erection wan in the least. "It is. If the, um, area is… stretched. And lubricated. So, um, if you want to do that, we will need- um. Oil. Or lotion. Or something…"

Gaara stared at him for a long moment, and Lee wondered what thoughts were flickering behind those implacable eyes. The he leaned over, arm brushing against Lee's torso as he reached for the nightstand. He came back with a bottle of oil, which he casually pressed into Lee's hand. Lee was vaguely aware that his fingers curled around it, and was not at all certain when they had decided to do so. "Oh. Um. Okay." Lee was somewhat proud that he managed an actual word in there, when considering how his brain was breaking, all he wanted to do was stutter. He undid the cap on the bottle, and the distinctive scent that seemed to follow all Suna-nin filled the air. Lee stared at the oil as if it were something far more threatening, and gulped.

"So. Um. Do you want to use it on me or…?"

Gaara's gaze flicked to the gourd of sand propped against the wall, and he looked thoughtful for all of a moment. "It would be safest for you that way," he said. Lee nodded quickly, feeling both disappointed and relieved. Not having to worry about the sand was probably a good thing, but there was a part of him that had wanted Gaara underneath him- that had wanted to see those lips parted around a gasp, those distant eyes glassy with lust, to hear Gaara groan his name…

Caught in the images, Lee didn't notice that Gaara was reaching for the bottle until pale fingers brushed against tanned. Reflexively his grip on the oil tightened, then relaxed when Gaara tugged more firmly. He looked between the bottle and Lee, obviously expecting instructions. Lee gulped.

Okay. He could do this. More than that, he _wanted_ to do this. He wanted Gaara. He'd always wanted Gaara, on some level- ever since the first time he'd seen those dark-ringed eyes. Rock Lee wasn't one to back down from a challenge, and he wasn't going to let himself be talked out of something that he wanted. That they both wanted. And that he wasn't likely to get another opportunity for again.

He leaned back against the bed, took a deep breath, and shifted so that his feet were braced against the bed, knees angled upward, thighs parted. "Um. First. You have to… um. Make certain that there is enough of the oil. And… go slow. And be certain to stretch the muscles. With. Um. Your fingers. I can do that part if you want," he quickly tacked on, realizing that he'd just suggested that the Kazekage of Suna put his fingers- well- there. Which was kind of a silly thing to fixate on considering what else Gaara was probably going to be putting there.

At that thought, Lee glanced down, wondering if that aspect was going to be a problem, considering- and was surprised to see that Gaara's own length was jutting out, fully erect. The crown was a dark, rosy blush, and he could see the gleam of a bead of precome resting there. Lee's mouth suddenly felt dry, and he swallowed. If he'd had any doubts about his own sexuality, the pulse of pure arousal that went through him on seeing Gaara like that fairly well silenced them. Gaara glanced down as well, apparently wondering what had caught Lee's attention, then visibly dismissed the Jounin's fascinated stare.

"I will do it," he replied, and Lee thought he heard a hint of huskiness to that monotone voice. He swallowed, then nodded. A voice in his mind asked if he was really going to do this- if this was really happening, or if maybe Gaara had been right about the heat-stroke after all, and this entire experience was a result of his addled mind. It seemed far more likely than this being real- than Gaara looking at him like that, unblinking, and somehow almost- hungry. Like he wanted Lee, which was a ridiculous thought, because the idea of Gaara wanting him-

Lee's thoughts were quickly derailed as slick fingers ran over the curve of his buttocks. His breath caught and his eyes widened, and he looked up at Gaara. The Kazekage watched him, observing every flicker and change of expression as thin fingers found the ripple and dip of flesh, then rubbed over it. Lee swallowed, because that felt- strange. Being touched there was strange, and the idea of what being touched there meant was strange, and that Gaara was the one doing the touching was the strangest of all.

Then Gaara's fingers pressed inside him. The first impression was of a niggling pain- a stretch and burn that Lee hadn't expected, and he was suddenly grateful that Gaara had decided that it should be this way instead of the other way around, because he didn't want to think about how the redhead could have reacted to unexpected pain. When two of Gaara's fingers were buried firmly inside Lee, he stopped, and stared down at the Jounin, obviously waiting for instructions. Lee focused on the way it felt- strange and odd and funny, with that little bit of pain lingering around it- and eventually dampened his lips. "Your fingers. You need- to move them," he explained.

Gaara's gaze tracked the flicker of Lee's tongue over his lips, and he leaned in slowly, bracing one knee to the side of Lee's hip, while his other stayed between Lee's parted legs. When Gaara's lips covered his, Lee let his eyes slip closed and tried to focus on the kiss instead of the way Gaara's fingers felt moving inside him, because he knew the kiss was good. Beyond good. The slide of Gaara's tongue against his, immediate and intimate, was addictive and drugging and-

Lee's breath caught and he tensed, eyes flying open. Gaara went still above him and pulled back, studying Lee's expression. Lee noticed something almost like worry there, underneath the curiosity and the calm, but he shook his head, the majority of his attention on how that had felt. "Do that again," he commanded breathlessly. Gaara looked at him strangely, but it didn't matter, because he twisted his fingers in exactly the same way and- that wasn't strange. Well it was, but it was good, too- a funny kind of good, a slow, sweet ache instead of the blazing heat that Lee was accustomed to associating with pleasure, but it was real and there and he wanted more of it.

Lee's impatience made him squirm beneath the touch. Gaara pulled his hand back and Lee felt a flash of frustration, arching up in an attempt to follow those fingers, because he didn't want it to stop. Then Gaara moved to settle himself between Lee's parted thighs, and when the tip of Gaara's erection pressed against his lube-slicked anus and slowly pressed in, all Lee could think was _'Oh.'_ Gaara's expression was intent, brow furrowed in an expression of concentration as he slowly pushed inside Lee, and Lee's gaze was caught by the ai kanji. As he'd been tempted to so many times, he let his fingers brush against it, tracing over it. He was surprised to feel the skin slightly raised underneath the pads of his fingers, instead of lying flat as it would with a tattoo, and he wondered for a brief moment if that meant that Gaara wasn't completely unscarred after all. Then Gaara was _inside_ him, fully inside, and Lee's thoughts scattered.

His hand fell to the bed, and his teeth caught at his bottom lip. He felt intensely aware of Gaara's eyes on him, staring into his as he waited. It was too much, almost- too intimate. It felt like those calm jade eyes could see everything, and Lee almost closed his eyes, almost turned his head away- but somehow he couldn't. Even when Gaara began to move and the pleasure flared up again, following the initial discomfort and eventually overtaking it, Lee couldn't pull himself away from that gaze. Gaara was the one to break it, when the slow rhythm that he'd established sped, and Lee could feel the rapid flutter of Gaara's heart beating against his chest. Gaara buried his face in the side of Lee's neck and Lee touched him because he could- stroked his back and his sides and his hips, and then touched nothing at all, when it felt too good and he couldn't think of anything other than the immediacy of flesh inside flesh.

Lee's world narrowed to the feel of Gaara's body over his- the trail of a bead of sweat down a pale throat, the way the muscles in Gaara's hips flexed as he pushed forward, the insistence that had started to follow every thrust, and the delicious slide of Gaara's stomach against his swollen erection. The need that had settled low in Lee's belly the moment Gaara had shrugged out of his coat built to a fever pitch, until Lee was moving and groaning and Gaara's fingers were biting into his hips to hold him _still_ so that he could push in all that much deeper. It mounted in a slow, steady wave, and when orgasm hit Lee's first, startling impression was of relief, because _finally_. Then Gaara groaned, a low, dark sound like Lee had dreamed of but never thought he'd actually make, and the steady rhythm stuttered, then became harsh and furious.

Lee was caught in the haze of orgasm, where every press deep inside felt simultaneously like an extension of that dizzying pleasure and like overstimulation to the point of discomfort. Then Gaara was trembling against him, and Lee's name emerged as a low, hoarse whisper. When Gaara slumped over him, Lee felt nothing but satisfaction. Gaara's breath stirred against his neck, and for a long time Lee stayed like that- lost in the pleasure of skin against skin.

Eventually, though, reality began to prickle at his mind. Gaara was impossibly heavy on top of him, and the press of their exertion-heated bodies together was almost intolerably hot. Lee murmured in protest and nudged at Gaara's ribs. Gaara made a quiet sound but moved, rolling over onto his side. Lee stared at the ceiling, the comparatively cool air feeling wonderful against his sweat-slicked chest, then reality slowly start to set in. Lee turned, and saw jade eyes staring at him. He swallowed.

Gaara. He'd- they'd- they'd actually- it felt like a dream, but there was no denying the sensation of Gaara's body branded into his own. Lee's breathing quickened, and his eyes widened. He tried to think of any possible way to handle this situation, but everything that Gai had ever taught him seemed moot, and Gaara's normally spiky hair was sticking to his face with sweat and his lips were reddened and slightly swollen from Lee's kisses and he had this loose, boneless look about him, like he was finally relaxed and Lee had never actually seen him relax before and-

Lee was only vaguely aware that he was babbling endless variations on apologies when Gaara's lips covered his own, cutting him off in mid-sentence. The kiss was slow, lazy, and almost contemplative, and when Gaara pulled back, Lee looked at him in surprise. A million words raced through his mind- questions, declarations, and everything in between- but in that moment, none of them seemed important. He leaned in to return the kiss, and when Gaara's lips moved against his, Lee's heart soared.


End file.
